


all you need is tulle and beer

by Xmarksthespot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 05:30:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2610227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xmarksthespot/pseuds/Xmarksthespot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jessica meets Dean Winchester on her wedding day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all you need is tulle and beer

Jess immerses herself in sunlight the moment the sun wakes up, a bright smile strewn across her face. She already has on her wedding dress even though her bridal party and her mother had specifically told her not to put it on before hair and makeup, and especially not where Sam could see her. He’d stayed at Brady’s house for the night though, and aside from later that evening, how many other times would she be able to bask in the glow of the sunlight on the balcony of their apartment in her multi-thousand dollar dress? The only missing piece of the puzzle right now was Sam dragging out the love seat from inside their home so they could cuddle without interruption.

Her fantasies, of course, are interrupted at that moment by the sounds of heavy footsteps, trotting just a few floors below along the pavement followed by a whirl of sirens in the distance. A man with hair like speckled dirt heads straight for the entrance of her apartment, mouth moving in hectic, harsh ways; Jess can only imagine the string of curses he must know. She thinks about Sam and how he doesn’t swear often, but when he does, he’ll sometimes do it in another language. He used to do it on instinct, like he grew up learning more than just English and mandatory school Spanish and French. Now he does it because it makes her laugh.

The blond man below is yanking at the front doors, the sirens are only getting louder, and Jess is _still_ standing on her balcony in her wedding dress watching all this unfold. She sees the stranger pull out several pieces of paper from pockets of his leather jacket, hunting for something—an apartment number, she thinks. He looks from side to side, weary of any approaching police officers and she catches a glimpse of his handsome face. Jessica Moore, bride to be, is instantly drawn to it.

Any sort of wedding nerves she had had seems pale in comparison to how she feels as she wanders back inside the apartment, bare feet stepping over the heels and make up boxes she had littered across the living room floors, and towards the intercom.

With a deep breath, she hits the button. “Hey,” she says with as much confidence into the speaker. “You can come in!”

“Thank God,” she hears the voice say through static lines, and is almost thrown off by how deep it is.

That could have been it. Jess could have let the stranger slash bank robber slash potential serial killer wander the staircases outside her apartment whilst she stayed inside locked doors, getting her hair and makeup ready, waiting for her bridesmaids to show up in less than an hour. Instead, she opens the front door, waiting for the sounds of heavy boots climbing the stairs, occasionally pausing as if he doesn’t really know where to go.

The man instantly stops the moment he sees her shy smile. She’s leaning against the opened door with her hands in front of her; she isn’t a threat. Instinct tells her to be open instead of being cautious.

“Need help?” she invites, and notices that he looks her up and down, unfathomed by the sight of her in her wedding dress—hey, she rocked this look and would continue to rock it on a daily basis if wasn’t socially unacceptable to wear your wedding dress on a daily basis.  

His nod is curt, and she waves her arm to the side as if to point the direction of her apartment. He’s hesitant, and it’s only after meeting Sam that Jess is used to seeing all tall and intimidating men being so cautious around women. She secretly likes it, though that doesn’t dominate the frantic screams inside her mind visually demonstrating all the ways her wedding could be ruined by this man, starting with an image of a dead bride in her bloody red dress. She pushes the thought away, vaguely hearing Sam’s voice telling her _I told you so_ after watching so many horror movies back to back.  

“Uh, thanks,” the man says again, voice smooth as whiskey.

Jess smiles. “Big day, huh?”

It gets a grin out of him, and Jess finds herself regretting less and less of her actions. “Not as big as yours,” he says with a nod over to her dress. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

And it’s silent and awkward. As awkward as accidentally walking into the men’s washrooms or when she accidentally brought out her parents’ sex toys during dinner thinking they were appropriate for her and her cousins to play with. No, scratch that. Nothing’s as awkward as that, but maybe as awkward as Sam when they first met and he stood there dumbfounded by the sight of her and not knowing how to talk to her. She giggles at the thought and just like with her fiancé, she makes the first move.

“I’m Jessica, by the way.”

“Dean,” he responds, holding out his hand to shake hers.

The sirens still sing in the background. It's visibly making Dean uncomfortable, she can tell, and she promptly walks over to her balcony to shut the doors close, muting the sounds.

“I didn’t just invite a serial killer into the house, did I?”

“What?” He’s startled. “No. No.” And one more time for reassurance on both their parts: “Definitely not. I, ah—just a little mishap is all.”

Jess just nods, but doesn't even bother looking back at him before heading to the kitchen.

“Sounds like you need a beer," she yells out.

“Wouldn’t say no to one,” he says as she walks to the fridge.

She passes him the drink, and he accepts it gladly, helping himself to the nearby chair while avoiding all her little bridal trinkets as if they could swallow him whole into a black hole of femininity. She catches him instead staring at the paper that hugs the bottle, a look of familiarity between him and the brand of beer she and Sam drink.

“So Mr. I’m Not A Serial Killer, can I ask what happened?”

Dean shrugs, eyes focused on a spot on her carpet; he’s debating what to tell her. Sam had that look a lot whenever she asked about his family. It was peculiar how often he and this stranger shared traits, Jess thinks.

“Nothing too bad,” he mumbles. “I’m not going to hurt you if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“I don’t know…” Jess sings. She kicks both of her bare feet onto the coffee table, the tulle sheets hang at her ankle as the rest of her dress collects underneath her legs. “Those officers seem too dead set on finding you for something that’s ‘not too bad.’”

Finally, Dean looks up from his bottle, a fake grin plastered on his face. “Let’s just say the police aren’t really fond of my family business.”

One of her eyebrows rise and she takes a sip of beer. “Family business? So should I expect more of you guys running around out there?”

He chuckles. “Nah. Dad’s probably on the other side of the country by now.”

“Any siblings?”

Jess watches as Dean visibly clenches his teeth at the question, but her eyes remain focused on him until he responds.

“Yeah. He lives around here, I think. I was trying to find his apartment earlier but...that was probably a bad idea: me barging into his life like this.”

Jess nods mutely, eyes softening at the sight of the saddening man in front of her. It grows quiet again, and even the police have stopped ringing their bells. Their immersion in silence doesn't last very long though when her phone goes off. She all but jumps out of her spot, making running in a ball gown look like child's play as she haphazardly digs for her phone from her purse. In her peripheral, Dean looks at her questioningly.

“Sorry," she tells him though she's not sure why she is when between the two of them, she was most shocked by the alarm. Dean looks like he's prepared for any circumstance that could've come their way—emphasis on the _any_. "My bridesmaids should be here soon.”

He nods, pushing himself up from the chair. “Right. Well, I suppose that’s my cue. Look thanks for..." He waves his one empty hand around. “—all this. You really helped me out there.”

“You could stay if you want.”

“Heh, I’m hardly dressed for the occasion and there’s really no point…”

Jess rolls her eyes. “The police are probably scanning the area. They won’t find you if you blend in with my wedding party. Not to mention we have a spare tux. You should be the right size.”

“Look lady, I’m flattered really, but I don’t think your husband’s going to—"

She can't help but snort. “I’m not coming on to you. I mean it. You can come as one of my old high school friends or something. I’ll go get somebody to bring the suit.”

“I—”

“There’s free food.”

His purses his lips and it's clear that a man's stomach really is the key to anything and everything.

“Well, I can’t deny—”

" _JESS_?!"

It’s a low, recognizable voice echoing from outside in the hallways. Jess turns around at the sound, quickly spinning back to see the empty spot where Dean was and hearing the washroom doors lock. She steps toward the front doors where the giant of a man she fell in love with is fidgeting with the locks, probably mustering all his strength not to break it down.

“I’m coming!” she calls out, and Sam can be heard calming down; his movements on the knob are less frantic. She unlocks the door, but before Sam could react, she reaches out her arm, blocking his vision with her hand. “I’m in my dress!”

He lifts his own arms, pulls her hand out of his line of vision, and Jess can see that he has his eyes closed. He places her hand against his lips and smiles widely. Even with his eyelids shut, Jess can’t help but note how much like a puppy Sam is sometimes.

“Sorry,” he says. “Brady just told me there were a lot of police cars in the area and you didn’t answer your texts, so I was worried—”

“Hey, hey,” she says, wrapping her arms around his neck. His eyes are still sewn shut. “I’m okay, Sam.”

She could only imagine what could have been running through his mind if he dashed all the way here, with his heart drumming heavily against her chest. Jess takes a step back and in doing so, guides her hand to loop around his. “Come in.”

“Actually, I don’t think I should be—”

“We have a last minute guest, but he doesn’t have a suit. Do you still have your extra one?” Jess asks as she pulls him into the apartment. She shuts the door just in case the police are still scrounging the area.

“Uh, yeah, but Jess, that suit is—”

“Great! I think it’ll fit him just right too,” Jess interrupts, leaving Sam in the living room as she marches to the bathroom. She pounds on the door and yells, “Hey, you can come out!”

She hopes Dean hasn't tried escaping through the tiny window. They are on the third floor, after all.

Luckily, the lock is undone, and she sees Dean hesitantly peaking from his hiding spot; she ignores the obvious muddy footprint on the bathroom wall below the window. Eagerly, she grabs hold of his arm. Dragging him from the bathroom when he is reluctant and confused is a tasking job, but either it gets easier or Dean’s arm is getting lighter the moment Sam comes into view; the goofball still has his eyes closed.

“Hey, you can open your eyes. I’m standing behind you, so you can’t see,” Jess assures him.

It’s obvious, even from her angle, the moment Sam opens his eyes. His shoulders tighten up, his small movements stiffen whereas Dean looks like he could melt right there, both transfixed with the sight of the other. It’s quiet, Jess thinks, but it’s only quiet to her and she can only wonder what is being exchanged in the air between the two men. Finally, much to her relief, Sam unclenches his fist and it catches her breath when she sees him take two strides forward, falling into Dean’s arms as if Sam had been a missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle.

While the silence between her and Dean had been nothing but awkward, there is something about the air around these two in each other’s arms. The feeling stays, even as Sam pulls back to turn to her—his arm is still glued to Dean’s back.

“Jess, how did you know…”

“I’m still in my dress!” She remarks and Dean takes too much pleasure out of slapping a hand over Sam’s face as a shield.

Jess laughs. “Well, after you got upset that Dean wouldn’t pick up your phone calls, I tried a few times and eventually got to him,” she explains. “He was really busy at the time, but promised he’d at least show up for the ceremony.”

Dean’s eyes widen as soon as his head perks up at her explanation. He continues to look bewildered by Jess even as Sam says: “So you planned this?”

No one knows who Sam is addressing his question to, but Dean manages a small grunt, as if he’s still processing what Jess had said.

“Of course. Dean wouldn’t miss our wedding. Why do you think I insisted you give him the suit you had put aside for him?”

Dean quickly nods, even if Sam can’t see with Dean’s hand still barricading his view. “Yeah. Yeah. Of course man. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Sam’s large smile is contagious, something Jess hasn’t been planning on seeing until later that day. If she had been wearing any makeup, the tears in the corner of her eyes would’ve ruined it by now. At the thought, she claps her hands together.

“You guys need to go.”

“What?” Dean asks, and Sam furrows his brows in her direction.

“We’re getting married in a few hours, Sam. I need to do my hair and makeup, and you need a shower. You smell like morning jog sweat.”

Dean snickers as Sam exclaims: “I thought you were in trouble!”

Jess doesn’t waste any more time, pulling open the doors and letting Dean guide Sam out, hand still wrapped around Sam’s face to keep him from seeing her. She stops them momentarily just to peck a kiss on Sam’s cheek.

“I’ll see you later,” she says and earns a dopey grin. “And watch out for the police on your way back.”

“See you later,” Sam says; he knowingly doesn’t mention the police comment. “And thanks.”

The two men eventually leave the apartment, though their voices echo through the halls. Vaguely, Jess hears a:

“You know Jess is a shitty liar, right?”

“What?”

“It’s alright. As long as you’re here man.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

“...Congrats though. I’m really happy for you.”

And with that, Jess heads back into hers and Sam’s bedroom, finally about to start the day, all the while smirking at the photo Sam has of him and his brother by their nightstand.


End file.
